"Well, no," was the reply, "not what you'd call much. We've had fresh meat right along, elk and blacktail and antelope. Early in the winter, just before we had that big storm, I went over to Point-of-rocks and killed three sheep; that's about the only thing out of ordinary that's been done."
"Three sheep! I wish I could get a chance to kill one. I've never even seen a sheep, and I want to get a shot at one most awfully."
"Well," said Hugh, "likely while we're up north we'll get a chance to; there's plenty of sheep in the Missouri River bad lands, and in the bluffs of the Yellowstone, and of course in the mountains. The Piegans, you know, don't go much into the mountains, but they kill quite some sheep in the bad lands, and on some of the buttes. Now, the Sweet Grass Hills are a great place for sheep; we're likely after we get to the Piegans to camp close to them, and maybe we can make a hunt up there for two or three days. I ain't a mite afeared but what you'll have chances at sheep before summer's over."
"Gracious! buffalo and sheep! That would be enough hunting for one summer, I should think. You're sure that when we go north we'll have plenty of buffalo hunting?"
"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "there'll be buffalo a plenty long after you and I are both dead."
By this time they had passed through the breaks and crossed the river, and come up over the hill, so that they could see the great lone mountain, where the road turned off to the right. "Oh, there's Bent Rock Mountain! that looks good, don't it, with the gray rocks and the black cedars scattered all over it. Now, there are sheep there, Hugh; don't you ever hunt there?"
"No," said Hugh; "there's a little bunch of sheep there, but they're mighty hard to get at, and I don't bother with 'em."
They rode on down the hill at a swinging canter, splashed through the stream, turned to the right and went up by the mountain, past the place where about a year before Jack had seen his first grizzly, and then turning to the left, galloped along across the undulating sage-brush prairie. The pack horse all the time was following close at their heels; his load was light and he knew that he was going home, and required no driving.
Suddenly, as they rode over the crest of one of the prairie swells, which gave a little wider view than most of them, Jack saw quite close to them a cow running hard, with head down and tongue out, and right at her heels a big wolf, and a little behind that, another. Just as they came in sight, the leading wolf sprang forward and caught the cow by the flank, and though it seemed impossible that so small an animal should throw one so large, the cow fell prone upon the prairie. While all this was passing before Jack's eyes, Hugh's horse stopped, his rider swung out of the saddle, his gun came to his shoulder, and as the smoke leaped from it, the second wolf fell. Jack had not been long enough on the prairie to act quite as quickly as Hugh; it took him a second or two to drag his gun from its scabbard and to spring from his horse, but the wolf that had pulled down the cow had not run more than a few yards before he fired at it; it gave a dismal howl, but still kept on; he shot again, and again the wolf yelled, but still it ran. It was almost on top of the hill now, when Hugh fired, and it disappeared. They jumped into their saddles and rode to the place, and found the wolf just kicking in the death struggle.
"Well," said Hugh, "that's a good job, anyhow. There's been a heap o' wolves round this winter, and I'm glad we got these two. I wish we'd come a minute earlier, so's to have saved that cow."